


Matterhorn

by DrakkHammer



Category: Being Human (UK), The Almighty Johnsons
Genre: Carnival Rides, Ferris wheels are awesome, M/M, Teen Anders, candy floss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 13:46:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8892970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrakkHammer/pseuds/DrakkHammer
Summary: At sixteen life is confusing enough without dealing with the fact that you might be gay and, worse...being born a Johnson. First dates don't usually go all that well and this one shows every sign of going straight down the loo.





	

 

 

Anders Johnson walked out onto Queen’s Wharf, past the bandstand with its blaring hard rock, past the carnies beckoning the marks to come and play rigged games, past the Ferris wheel to a large, mostly enclosed, ride with a neon Matterhorn sign that you could read halfway across the midway. Here he stopped, fingered the two over-priced tickets that he’d been sent, and waited.

While he waited, his mind drifted back to that night when he was sixteen. It was his first time coming to the Queen’s Wharf Carnival -- and his last, until today.

  

* * * * * * * *

 

The carnival lights shimmered out over the harbor. The music was gay and the crowds almost unbearably happy. Anders watched nervously from his position next to the ticket booth, which, in turn, was next to the Matterhorn – the ride, not the mountain. It didn’t look much like a mountain, or a place where you were supposed to meet your date.

He shoved the tickets into his pocket, forcing his hand out before his tremors shredded them. Fuck! If he didn’t stop shaking he was going to make a complete fool out of himself. Not that it would take much. He was pretty much the laughing stock of his class, if not the whole damn school. He was well aware that he was piss-ant little Anders with the hand-me-down clothes and the mouth that was smarter than he was.

He’d had to both scrounge to find clean clothes that fit and to not let his parents notice them as he slipped out of the house. He didn’t worry about coming home late. They would both be too drunk to care and Ty would keep his arrival secret.

The night air bit through the thin T-shirt but it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that he’d earned and saved enough for four tickets – enough to go on two of the rides. It wasn’t much, but it was only sort of a date, so hopefully Matt could buy a few as well.

Anders had never been to a carnival. He looked around in wonder at the lights and the wagons that sold all manner of incredible treats. A family passed him eating corn dogs and candy floss, making his stomach remember that he’d had to skip out before dinner. This whole meet up thing had been Matt’s idea. But Anders had gone along with it because he didn’t dare really be seen with a boy he liked, well not in that way.

It was getting dark, which made it easier to blend into the shadows, but Matt was nearly an hour late. What a dick move not to bother to show the fuck up. Anders kicked at a Styrofoam cup, sending it twirling into the passing crowd where it was promptly squashed. Rather like his evening, he mused, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets.

He pulled out the tickets and heaved a sigh. What a stupid idea to think that a handsome guy like Matt could actually like someone like him. He was just wondering if he could try for a refund, when a strident voice caught his attention.

“Hey, you there with the tickets! What are ya waitin’ for? Get on up here, I gotta ride to fill.”

Anders turned with a puzzled “who me?” look on his face to find a heavyset man gesturing to him.

“Yeah you.” He beckoned at Anders again. “You gonna ride or not? I ain’t got all night.”

Anders started to refuse when a young boy leaned over and called to him, “We can’t go until it’s full. Please get on, so we can go.”

Well, why the hell not? The night was shot anyway, so he might as well get a couple of rides and at least try to enjoy himself rather than just wasting his money. After all, he’d never been on a ride before and it might be fun.

His two tickets were taken briskly and he was seated in a car that already had one occupant. Before he could do more than sit down, the attendant shoved the safety bar into the lock and the ride started up with a lurch. All Anders could do was hang on as the car jerked forward. He tried to greet the other occupant, but a dip in the track slammed him back against the seat, knocking the breath out of him and he grabbed the bar like his life depended on it.

The ride was simple; it went in a large circle through an enclosure painted to look like a mountain. There were hills and valleys in the track, nothing spectacular and, although there was a rough start, the Matterhorn seemed to be more of a kid’s ride.

That is until it picked up speed.

At one point Anders was certain the wheels left the track and the smallish hills and valleys combined with the speed made it impossible to maintain either his seat or his composure. In spite of his best efforts, the centrifugal force slid him sideways against the other occupant of the seat. He strained to pull himself away, but the ride sped up even more and Anders’ poor seatmate was pancaked against the inside of the car.

Anders struggled to look at him, his “Sorry!” being lost as he fought to hang on to the safety bar.

For his part, the man who was steadily being compacted took it more or less stoically, giving forth only an occasional grunt when Anders managed to pull away and was slammed back. Finally, in self-defense, he reached out, put his arm around Anders, and pulled him close to stabilize him. Apparently, being squashed was infinitely preferable to being pummeled.

When the ride finally slowed down, Anders tried to scoot over but found himself held firmly. He glanced up at his companion, finally getting a good look at him. He was handsome, dark hair wild and tousled from the ride and, against all reason, he was grinning.

“Wait until it stops. There’ll be a big lurch and I don’t fancy getting another elbow in the ribs.”

His voice was low and sweet with the music of Ireland. He was utterly gorgeous. Anders could feel his face burst into flame. Could this night get any worse?

“I’m sorry I hit you, mister.” Anders' voice was muffled with embarrassment. He hoped the bloke wasn’t going to be pissed off about being hit so many times.

The look on his face was reassuring. “Naw, it’s alright, mate. This ride always does it, but I love it anyway. I couldn’t get anyone to come with me tonight, so I was already resigned to getting smashed by random strangers.”

The amusement in his voice made Anders look up. Dark eyes were shining in a face split wide with an infectious grin. He really wasn’t upset, not that it helped Anders’ embarrassment, or worry that he might have earned himself a cuff or two after they got off. He made up his mind to bolt the moment the ride stopped. They can’t hit you if they can’t catch you.

When the bloody thing finally stopped, the stranger’s arm slid from around his shoulders. The safety bar was whipped up and Anders shot out of the seat. His first instinct was to say something smartass about being held, but the look on his companion’s face stayed is tongue. He couldn’t remember ever seeing an adult look this happy.

Happiness, especially in adults, wasn’t something Anders was familiar with and it made him vaguely uncomfortable. The man called out to him, but he didn’t acknowledge that he’d heard. He’d made it down the steps and just past the ticket booth when they stepped out of the shadows.

Matt was in the lead, flanked by Tim and Harry, two of the gang who had beaten him up on more than one occasion. He was screwed and he knew it. Might as well go down fighting.

“So what do you asswipes want?” he snarled, fists opening and closing as he squared his shoulders.

Harry’s lips curled in a sneer. “The little faggot come to meet his boyfriend? Didn’t work out too well, did it?”

Anders' face went white as a sheet and he could feel his stomach rile. This was going to be bad.

“Like I’d ever date some little asshole like you even if I was a fucking queer.” Matt stepped forward so that Anders could see him. His contemptuous smile broadened. “Monday at school is gonna be fun. We’re gonna fuckin’ destroy your faggot ass.”

The third boy reached out and shoved Anders, knocking him back into the shadows. “By noon everyone will know that you like dick, you fucking pervert.”

He shoved him again and Anders took a wild swing. It missed and he nearly went down. The three of them moved forward…and suddenly stopped.

Their way was blocked by a tall man wearing black.

“Three against one isn’t very fair odds, now is it, mate?” His voice was soft, but the look in his eyes was anything but.

He took a step toward them and they backed up as one. “Now it won’t do for you to be threatening to tell the whole school about this night either.”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes — eyes that somehow looked black, reflecting the neon of the lights. “In fact, I believe that you will go home and go to bed and by Monday you will have forgotten all about this lad. In fact, this night never happened.”

The smile widened and impossibly there were fangs, long and sharp. “If I hear that any one of you has told anyone about tonight, well let’s just say that it will be the last story he will ever tell. And...” he let the pause drag out, “I believe that you’ll forget this lad even exists, yeah?”

They were riveted to the spot, staring at the black-eyed monster before them. He cocked his head. “Do you understand?”

Frozen in place, they nodded in unison.

The Irishman looked back at Anders who wore a look of utter bemusement. The man smiled; his eyes a normal brown, his teeth white and even. But when he turned back to the boys, his eyes snapped back to obsidian.

“Why are you lot still here?” His voice had a hiss to it that unlocked their legs and sent them racing down the midway, nearly tripping over each other as they fled.

He laughed long and hard, a hearty bray that would haunt them until their dying day.

“Well, that should take care of them,” he said, turning to face Anders again.

The blond held his ground. “Who are you? How’d you scare them off like that?”

The man shrugged noncommittally. “I just reasoned with them.”

Anders shook his head. “You scared the fuck out of them. They were practically pissing themselves. Now who the hell are you?”

The man snorted softly. “I’m Mitchell. No one special. I just learned long ago how to take the piss out of bullies like that lot.”

“I don’t need any strangers to fight my battles!” Anders was on the offensive and it felt good. He’d been embarrassed too many times tonight to let it ride. “Why don’t you fuck off and leave me alone!”

Mitchell’s face twitched into a smiled and this time it reached his eyes. “Hey, sometimes we all need someone to help us fight our battles, especially when the odds are as bad as these. Not many men can take three against one.”

Anders still had his fists balled up, his breath whistling through clenched teeth. His adrenaline was still over the moon and he badly wanted to punch someone. His enemies were gone and there was no one left except the man in black who was still fucking smiling.

Anders let his breath out with a whoosh. “I guess I should thank you.”

“I guess you should.”

“Thanks.” It came out almost as a whisper.

The Irishman nodded once. “You’re welcome.”

“Who are you, really?” Anders was nothing if not persistent.

“I’m a bad guy who hates to see anyone get bullied,” he said gently, sadness coloring his words, making his accent all the stronger.

Straightening to his full height, Anders looked at him critically. “You ain’t no bad guy. I know bad guys.”

“I’ll wager you do.” There was a long pause. “One of them gave you that bruise on your cheek. Was it one’a them?” He gestured over his shoulder with his thumb.

Anders shook his head, his face flaming again. He’d thought the bruise healed enough so that no one would notice. His father usually hit him where it didn’t show, but he was so drunk he forgot and his son had the embarrassment of telling everyone he tripped and fell.

Anders caught Mitchell frankly appraising him. Hair home-cut, T-shirt old and too thin for the weather, jeans washed to a fade that was past fashionable and caught up with a belt big enough to need a knot rather than a buckle. His face burned even brighter and he studied the toes of his scuffed shoes.

The Irishman made a sound that might have been a sigh. Anders felt strong fingers under his chin, lifting his head up. His head could be forced, but not his eyes. He continued to look at the ground.

“There’s no shame in having to live rough. Kids don’t have a say most times. You’ll be out of there soon.”

Anders wrenched his head free and glared up at Mitchell. “Not bloody likely. I’ve got two younger brothers.”

“I see.” There was a long pause. “And you have to be there for them.” The words were weary, colored by too much knowledge of how such things went.

“You’re a good man and I’m honored to meet you…uh...” The irishman held out his hand to be shaken, the look on his face expecting a name.

“Anders. Anders Johnson,” came the quick reply. He took Mitchell’s hand and shook it, blue eyes meeting brown. ‘I’m not a man yet, but I have to take care of my brothers.”

“You’re more a man than you think. It’s not age that makes a man; it’s what’s in his heart. Some die of old age and are still boys.”

“Sounds like Irish bullshit to me,” Anders observed wryly.

Mitchell burst out laughing. “That it is boyo, that it is, and good on ya for calling me on it.” He laid the accent on heavily, punctuating the statement with a good-natured wink.

“But as long as you’re here and I’m here and we’re standing in the middle of a carnival, why don’t we go on some rides?” Mitchell looked up at the Ferris wheel longingly.

Anders kicked the pavement again. “I only got two tickets left. It’s late and I need to get home.”

“Fuck that!” The Irishman said loud enough to get a dirty look from the family that was passing. This only made him giggle and Anders found himself smiling back.

“Look, you came here for a date and got stood up. I came alone and have no objection to standing in for that cocksplat. How about if you’re my date for the night?”

Anders took a step away from him and Mitchell laughed again. “Not like that. I’m not into robbing the cradle, but I am into having some carnival-type fun. Who else am I going to find at this time of night who’ll eat candy floss with me and ride the Ferris wheel a half a dozen times?

“You got the balls to ride with me, Anders?” Mitchell’s eyes were sparkling, his expression challenging and teasing at the same time.

Anders took stock of Mitchell. He was older, but not all that much and had more the look of a teen playing hooky than he did a predator. Besides Anders knew that he was faster than any adult. If the Irishman tried anything he’d be gone in a flash.

“You’re on.” With an evil grin, he pointed to the Tilt-a-Whirl, known locally as the ‘Tilt-a-Hurl.’ “How about starting with that one?”

Mitchell walked up to the ticket book and bought a long strip of tickets. “Two rides back-to-back or you’re a chickenshit.”

They made two rides…barely. They both came off looking a little green around the gills. The carney running it knew how to manipulate the switch and was able to pick a car and spin it so that the passengers were thrown to their feet, only the safety bar keeping them in the car. He took Mitchell and Anders as a personal challenge. They were dizzy when they got off, but neither of them puked, so they both felt they won that round.

When they could walk straight again, they headed for the Ferris wheel. The breeze from the ocean had kicked up and Anders shivered in his thin Tee. He wished he’d thought to bring a jacket with him. But he was used to sucking it up and tensed his shoulders to stop the shiver. He’d be damned if he was going to miss this night because he was a little bit cold.

Mitchell paused and then made a sharp turn to one of the booths. Anders turned to follow him and found himself in front of a long table stacked with shirts and hoodies.

“Which one do you like?” Mitchell asked, inspecting the array of shirts spread before them.

“Doesn’t matter,” Anders replied icily. “I thought we were going on the wheel, bro?”

Mitchell was holding up and critically inspecting a hoodie that proclaimed that Kiwis shagged sheep. “How about this one, it’s nicely offensive?”

“Fuck you, man. I can’t wear shit like that.” Anders glared at him and looked at the Ferris wheel again. “Come on.”

Mitchell shrugged. “I don’t fancy carrying your frozen corpse off any ride. You pick a hoodie, or we’ll call it a night.”

Anders’ brow lowered and his eyes burned into the Irishman. “What do you want? I ain’t doing anything to earn a hoodie.”

“Fuck you, man,” was the instant response. Heavy brows were drawn down in a dangerous frown. “I’m not perving on you, asshole. I want live company on the rides and that shirt you’re wearing doesn’t cut it. Now pick a bloody shirt and let’s go!”

Anders coveted the Metallica shirt, but if he came home with that he’s get beaten into next week. He chose one a brownish one that looked beat up enough to pass muster with his father. Faded lettering proclaimed, “Guinness, Dublin Ireland 1759.” All things considered, it was pretty damn cool looking. He slid it on and the shivering stopped.

Mitchell nodded approvingly. “You’ve at least got good taste.” He paid for the shirt and watched patiently as Anders slipped it on and zipped up, looking immediately warmer. “Now let’s rock’n roll.”

Mitchell made one more stop before the ride. He bought them both large poofs of pink candy floss because there was “nothing like sitting at the top of the world eating spun sugar.”

Anders thought Mitchell sounded like a deranged five-year-old, but he’d never had candy floss before and his sweet tooth quickly fell in love with it. He did find that Mitchell was right. Sitting at the top of the wheel looking out over the carnival and the harbor while rotting his teeth out of his head was cool. In fact, it was fucking awesome!

They rode the Ferris wheel twice and Anders didn’t even mind when Mitchell slipped his arm around him when the car rocked with a gust of wind. He moved it fast enough when they stabilized and went back to the remainder of his candy floss. Getting back to the ground took forever, but Anders didn’t mind. It was amazing to sit so high up and be able to see the entire wharf and all the rides. When they did get off, Mitchell announced that he was hungry. He made a beeline for the row of food joints. Anders slid to a stop in amazement. He’d never seen so much food offered before. All the garish signs proclaimed that they had the Biggest and the Best of whatever they were selling.

Mitchell took a look at Anders’ face and chuckled. “Get whatever you want. Knock yourself out, kid. Just don’t puke on me if it doesn’t stay down.” He handed Anders a ten-dollar note and then got in line for a kielbasa sandwich that promised fried onions and peppers on it. Anders made a gagging face at Mitchell, who flipped him off, then raced down the midway looking for sustenance.

It pained him to have to choose one thing, but he finally decided on prawns with curly fries, which he doused liberally with tomato sauce. The latter pained Mitchell and he muttered something about ruining perfectly good food…as he sat and stuffed the sausage and onion/pepper mix into his mouth in huge bites. They laughed over their diverse and revolting food choices and then washed it all down with too-sweet lemonade from a nearby stand.

The two of them then set upon the rides with a vengeance. If it whirled, spun, and looked like something no sane person would get on – they went twice. Anders did eventually lose his prawns on the aptly named Scrambler. Fortunately, he was sitting close enough to the side to spill overboard. Mitchell wisely decided not to take the piss and when Anders could look at food again, replenished him with a couple of hot dogs and more curly fries.

They ended the night only when the lights started to wink out, signaling that everyone needed to go home. It was a long walk back to Mitchell’s car, but they were both fortified with another stick of candy floss. By the time he’d finished and was belted in, Anders had to admit that it was going to be a long time before he was going to want candy floss again. Mitchell, however, chatted happily about the possibility of buying his own machine. Grownups were weird.

Mitchell turned of the headlights and rolled to a silent stop in front of Anders’ house, knowing without being told that waking his parents up would be a bad thing.

“Are you going to be able to get in okay? Should I walk up with you?”

“Hell no!” Anders killed that idea on the spot. “You want me to die? I know how to get in. They’re drunk and sleeping. I wasn’t missed…I never am.”

Leaning over, Mitchell ran his fingers through Anders' hair. “You take care of yourself.”

Anders nodded curtly. “I always do. Thanks for all the fun tonight, it was brilliant.”

“Yeah, it was, wasn’t it?” Mitchell got that silly grin that turned into a giggle.

It made Anders laugh too. He liked this crazy Irishman and was reluctant to get out of the car.

When Mitchell looked at him again, his breath caught in his throat. The intensity of the look froze him in place. It was full of loneliness and need, but with a blink and a shrug it was gone.

“If you were older, I’d kiss you,” Mitchell whispered looking at Anders’ lips.

Before he could think, Anders replied, “If you were younger, I’d kiss you back.”

Having reached an agreement, they both leaned forward in slow motion and Anders felt Mitchell’s lips brush his.

The kiss was warm, and soft, and flavored with candy floss, and neither wanted it to end.

Mitchell sat up first and smiled. “You are beautiful and you deserve only the best. I’m sure not it but there is someone out there who is. You’ll find him.”

Anders nodded slowly, then looked up, his blue eyes silver in the dark. “Will I see you again?”

“No,” Mitchell replied softly. “But I’ll be around.”

“Never?” he could already feel the loss.

“Well, at least not for a long time. You have to grow up and I have a couple of things to take care of here in town.” Mitchell glanced meaningfully toward the house, but Anders was still lost in the kiss and didn’t notice. “And then there are some other things that won’t be easy or fast.” Mitchell looked out of the window and heaved a sigh. “I won’t lose touch. I promise.”

“People always break promises,” Anders replied sullenly.

Mitchell chuckled and ruffled his hair. “I’m not ‘people’ and I don’t break promises. You’ll see me again.”

  

* * * * * * * * * *

 

That had been twenty years ago. So much had happened in those years. Bragi had come and then blessedly gone. Anders was free to be his own man for the first time in his life. He had tried to find Mitchell without success, but one day an envelope had arrived with no return address.

The letter inside was brief, written in precise script on paper that looked like it came from a hotel room – “If you fancy going on a few rides with me, meet me by the Matterhorn at 9 pm on Saturday.” Enclosed were two ride tickets.

Dawn couldn’t figure out why no more work got done that day and why her boss was grinning like a bloody idiot.

On Saturday at precisely 9pm Anders Johnson stood in the shadow of the Matterhorn. He didn’t hear the blaring music or see the neon lights. His entire focus was the pounding in his chest and the two tickets that he’d had clenched in his hand until they were crumpled and smeared with sweat.

At two minutes past nine, he could stand it no longer and stepped forward to search the midway. There were so many people all jostling to get somewhere to spend their money. Trying to shove aside the feeling of disappointment that twisted his stomach, Anders stood on his toes to see better.

He was nearly knocked to the ground by a young man racing by, but strong arms caught him and steadied him.

He turned and looked up into smiling brown eyes. The grin was the same, cheeky with a giggle that threatened to spill over.

“You came.”

Anders smiled back and held out the tickets.

“Yeah, I did. And I’m ready for that ride.”

 


End file.
